Euphoria
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Imaizumi's looking for someone else at the moment, and it only takes a few minutes of searching before he catches a glimpse of red hair a few feet away." Imaizumi tracks down Naruko after the end of the Interhigh.


Imaizumi is used to the euphoria that hits at the end of races. He's experienced enough to know that for the first few minutes even the greater considerations of victory or defeat fade into unimportance under the floating sense of physical bliss, exhausted muscles finally resting and oxygen-deprived thoughts going warm and hazy with the comfort. It's a pleasant feeling, one that long ago lost the stress of unfamiliarity, and he would be more than happy to relax into it now that he's completed his first Interhigh.

It seems unfair that he should be denied that comfort for such a minor reason.

It's not a physical strain holding him back. He's more than willing to collapse at the edge of the road just past the finish line, to gulp water and eat the handful of energy bars the other team members are offering him. But even as his skin aches pleasantly and his body goes light and weightless with the cessation of effort his mind is doubling back, returning over and over to who they left behind them on the course.

He knows who he's thinking of. It's true that Tadokoro is far behind them, that Kinjou dropped out far earlier than was fair, but it's Naruko Imaizumi thought of as he pushed for the finish line, Naruko he's thinking of now. That does seem right, in a way; Naruko has proven remarkably adept at stealing Imaizumi's peace up until now, after all. Imaizumi might be more concerned if the redhead _hadn't_ found a way to upset his calm even without being physically present.

It's the winner's podium that finally brings their two missing members, along with the deserved joy Imaizumi has been waiting for. He doesn't think to ask how Kinjou is supporting himself on his bad knee, doesn't think much about Naruko's apparent health; it's enough to have them there, to step up to the platform all together, for the mental satisfaction of victory to blend seamlessly with pleasant physical exhaustion until Imaizumi doesn't have to think at all about his smile.

The worry comes after.

It takes Imaizumi a few minutes to work his way through the well-wishers, the crowd formed of an audience too generically delighted for him to parse individual faces. He offers an exhausted smile instead of true recognition, a handshake when it seems necessary, trying to use the advantage of height to catch a glimpse of the bright red hair he knows so well. But there's no trace of the other boy, neither laughing nor boasting nor speaking, and Naruko's absence in the face of this sort of universal praise is enough to bring back all Imaizumi's half-forgotten panic.

He finds him, eventually. It's difficult to break free of the crowd, but finally the focus has shifted to the team captain - currently leaning heavily against Kanzaki's shoulder to spare his knee - and the hero of the day, Onoda still glowing so bright Imaizumi can't help but smile even with the concern winding tight in his chest. But he's looking for someone else at the moment, and it only takes a few minutes of searching before he catches a glimpse of red hair a few feet away.

Naruko is leaning against the support of a tree, his head tipped back and eyes shut like he can't find the strength to keep them open. It makes Imaizumi's stomach drop for a moment - is he okay? does he need medical support? - but when he hesitates Naruko opens one eye, grins when he recognizes the other boy.

"Hey there, hotshot." He sounds weird, a little breathless and weaker than usual, but his smile looks sincere and the nickname alone is enough to let Imaizumi take a real breath as he steps in closer and drops to sit alongside the other.

"Are you okay?" Imaizumi asks, glancing sideways from under the shadow of his hair as Naruko shuts his eyes again.

"'Course I am," Naruko says without looking at Imaizumi. He sounds certain, so sure of himself it's almost a laugh, but his face is white under his tan, his breathing coming harder than it should. "Couldn't let you steal all the glory, could I?"

Imaizumi doesn't answer, looks down at his feet instead. He can see his legs trembling, the strain of the race catching up to him now that he's not standing. "Can you see anything?"

It's soft, completely stripped of the aggression it might have in other circumstances. Imaizumi can hear Naruko take a breath to snap a response, can feel the silence going taut with expectation as the other boy takes in his tone and the words themselves. Then:

"A little," weirdly gently, almost a whisper, like Naruko's afraid someone else will hear him if he's not careful. Imaizumi looks over at him again, but Naruko's eyes are still shut, he's speaking without meeting the other boy's gaze. "Everything's kind of blurry still." He laughs, a short rush of air past his lips that tightens Imaizumi's chest unpleasantly like he can't quite catch his breath. "Collapsing in the middle of my fans isn't flashy, you know."

Imaizumi's throat goes tight as he breathes out, the exhale turning into the sound of a laugh but feeling like a sob in his throat. He wants to look away from the exhaustion clear all across Naruko's features - it makes him feel like he's falling, like the world has tipped sideways and stolen away some security he always had under his feet - but he can't, even when he blinks and his vision goes blurry as if to match Naruko's.

"Hotshot?" Naruko says, careful with the sound, and then his fingers are bumping Imaizumi's arm, feeling out the angle of his elbow and down until he can close his fingers against the other boy's wrist. Imaizumi isn't sure what he's feeling anymore; his heart is pounding like he's gearing up for another race, his eyes burning with the threat of maybe-tears, his throat tight on laughter more hysterical than amused. "I'm glad you finished."

It's the most sincere Imaizumi has ever heard Naruko. The words hit him like lightning, jolting even his exhausted body into overdrive and sending his heart fluttering against his ribcage as if there's any strength left in him. He can't manage enough adrenaline to lock himself in place with uncertainty, can't pull up enough panic to go stiff and awkward under Naruko's touch. All he can do is glow warm, his skin flushing against Naruko's fingertips, and without the strain of uncertainty to hold him still it's easy to lean in sideways and press his lips to the corner of Naruko's mouth.

There's no big reaction like Imaizumi always imagined, when he pictured doing this. The world keeps turning, the sun keeps shining, his pulse keeps thudding in his throat. There's just the soft of someone else's lips against his, the give of unfamiliar warmth at his mouth, and then Naruko turns his head and they're kissing properly and all Imaizumi can think is that kissing is softer than he thought it would be.

He doesn't know how long they linger there, their lips pressed flush together and radiating warm against each other's mouth. It's long enough for his cheeks to be hot by the time they separate, his breathing coming faster than it has since he crossed over the race's finish line. Imaizumi blinks at Naruko, at the shadow of dark lashes still drawn over the other's eyes, and it's only then he realizes Naruko has kept his eyes shut for the entire contact.

Naruko's mouth twitches, the very corner of it turning up into a grin. Imaizumi can see the sharp points of his teeth, is just starting to flush from staring at the suddenly-familiar shape of the other boy's mouth, when Naruko heaves a sigh so enormous Imaizumi has a chill of panic.

"Damn, hotshot," and he's opening his eyes, slowly enough that Imaizumi can see the glaze over the other boy's vision clear as he focuses on Imaizumi's face. "You just _had_ to beat me to that too, didn't you?"

It takes Imaizumi a moment to understand the words, to realize they aren't the rejection he was braced for. Then he starts to laugh, all the tension in him turning into amusement in his throat, and then Naruko joins in and Imaizumi had to duck his head and pant for breath between the peals of relieved laughter that are pouring up his throat. He doesn't realize Naruko's hand is interlaced with his until the first rush of amusement has faded, and by then he's not sure if it was his motion or Naruko's that linked their fingers together.

For once, Imaizumi doesn't care which of them was first.


End file.
